


The Start of Something New

by Laeviss



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Modern AU, Trans Male Character, Wranduin Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 02:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17972594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeviss/pseuds/Laeviss
Summary: Anduin cannot wait to start his new life at college but a boy who lives at the end of his hall has managed to get under his skin. A modern Warcraft AU written for the Wranduin Week 2019 prompt "Alternate Universe"





	The Start of Something New

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains a brief scene of transphobia that, though kept fairly vague, plays a role in the plot. If this is something that might be potentially upsetting, please proceed with caution!

The tub of clothing nearly slipped from Anduin’s fingers as he struggled turn the key in its lock. Sighing, he shifted and pressed the corner against his side for support, before twisting again, until, finally, he heard a click. With a nudge, the door swung inward, revealing a small, dusty room with a single window cracked open for relief from the August humidity. It had only, unfortunately, achieved marginal success.

Limping forward, Anduin set down the box on the corner of an uncovered mattress then wiped his forehead on the back of his hand. His forearms ached, and he took a moment to stretch them, flexing his fingers, his gaze straying to the half-unpacked computer and opened suitcase on the other side of the room. 

So, his roommate had already arrived, he realized with a soft smile. It was hard to tell who to expect from the black t-shirts and socks spilled out across the floor, so he just waited, deciding, as his gaze moved to the two joined desks pressed against the wall, that he shouldn’t make any major decisions without consulting him first.

Instead, he just sank down on the bed beside his own box and drew in a few much-needed breaths. 

Growing up the only child of a widower, he was used to a house that was big and empty, with many unused rooms and surfaces and enough space for twenty more people to live if they wished. This…was clearly not that. The whole building seemed to shake with the squeals of furniture being slid across the floor and the bickering of parents and students. “No, they said room 323, not 332,” he heard one man snap from somewhere down the hall, and he smiled, throwing himself back onto the bed and staring up at the yellowed drop-ceiling. 

He was excited, he had to admit. Muggy and dirty and loud as it was, this was an adventure, and at long last he was ready to start. 

With a slight pop the door swung open again. Anduin bolted upright, expecting to greet his new roommate—ready to apologize for choosing a bed without asking him first— but instead he was met by his father, cradling a microwave in his arms like it weighed little more than a book. Still, he rushed to prop open the door and create space for him to get over the threshold. 

His father wasted no time in making the desk decision for him, walking over to the table closest to the window and scooting the microwave beneath the built-in bookshelf. Anduin opened his mouth to protest, but Varian simply dusted his hands and gave the room an appraising look. He pursed his lips when his eyes fell on Anduin. “There’s just the one closet? 

“I think so,” Anduin admitted, pointing down at the scattered clothing. “I’m not sure when he’ll get back, but I was going to ask him before moving anything else around.”

He intended for the comment to be a pointed one, but, if his father picked up on it, he disregarded it. Instead, he turned to the window and gave its metal handle a tug, shaking it a few times, then yanking it to the right along its track. He only managed to crack it another inch or so, and he was clearly unsatisfied. 

“Anduin, are you sure you want to do this? I can talk to the administration and see if they’ll bend the rules. I know the apartments are for upper-classmen, but they can’t expect you to live in a place like this.”

Anduin hated when he put it like that, unable to chase the frown from his lips. He drew in a breath, trying to remind himself that his father’s concern came from a place of love, no matter how much it frustrated him. After a long exhale, he finally managed to make his expression neutral once more. “Father, I’ll be fine, really. I want to live with everyone else! A little chronic pain isn’t going to keep me from having fun.”

“Yes, but it isn’t just that.”

Anduin’s felt heat flood his cheeks, heat that had absolutely nothing to do with the sticky August air. “I know, father,” he admitted, casting a long look into his box of clothing. “But I’ll be fine, really. I promise! I want to do this. I’m excited to meet new people. Having a roommate might be fun, too.”

Instead of assenting to that statement, his father responded by walking over to the closet and sliding it open, as if looking for something to counter Anduin’s enthusiasm. He wrinkled his nose, and Anduin had to fight with himself not to sigh. His father really was overprotective sometimes.

“Well, if you change your mind, you could always rush my old frat in the spring. The living conditions are better there. You’d have more space and privacy.”

“Father—” _How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not going to join a frat,_ he wanted to snap back in exasperation, but instead he just rose, walked around his roommate’s belongings, and headed to stand with him at the closet. He soon discovered what his father was scowling at. Inside was even dustier than the rest of the room, and sparse, with barely enough space for one person, let alone two. 

Shaking his head, he laughed softly to himself, then nudged the door out of his father’s grasp so he could slide it closed. “I think a few more plastic boxes would solve that problem. Maybe we can go to the store together before you leave town?” 

This seemed to soften his father’s expression a bit, but he still tried one more go at his previous solution, a short, almost awkward, “I’d make sure you got in, you know.”

“I know.” The words that escaped him were somewhere between a groan and a laugh. Anduin had never been more grateful when the door swung open and a pale, dark-haired boy appeared in the doorway. 

But then he opened his mouth. “Oh, don’t mind me.” The phrase itself was polite, but the way he said it lingered in the air like an insult, and Anduin wasn’t quite sure why. He watched his roommate step over his own t-shirts and toss what seemed to be a Styrofoam box full of fries onto the unoccupied desk, before producing an ethernet cable he had balled up in his pocket. Next to Anduin, his father stood up a bit straighter, clearing his throat, watching the boy with the same expectant gaze he knew he put on in the courtroom.

Not wanting either of them to start off on the wrong foot, Anduin walked over and extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Anduin,” the boy looked at him, but did not reach out to accept the gesture. Undeterred, Anduin persisted. “I think I’m your new roommate.”

“Nathan Marris,” he responded with a mirthless smile. “First year computer science major.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I’m thinking of majoring in political science or English, maybe, but I do like computers.”

“I see.”

Awkward though the exchange was, it seemed enough to diffuse some of his father’s tension. He stepped to Anduin’s left and then extended a hand; this time, much to Anduin’s surprise, Nathan set aside his cables to take it. “Judge Varian Wrynn. I’m Anduin’s father.”

Not waiting for a reply, he gave the boy’s hand a firm shake, and then released it to turn his attention back on his son. “Anduin, what’s still in the car? Your books and another suitcase? Where’s your laptop?” 

“It’s in my backpack, I think,” Anduin glanced between them, and, seeing that Nathan had already turned away to start eating, left to wander back towards his bed and the box he had set on the mattress. He removed the lid and checked inside, shuffling through several neatly-folded pairs of jeans until his fingers brushed against the soft corner of his computer case. He flashed his father a sheepish look. “Oh, wait, no, it’s here. Nevermind! It should just be the books, my cane, and the suitcase.”

Varian nodded and cast a long, surveying look around the room. “All right. I’ll bring them up.” And then, as if preempting the protest Anduin’s lips had already started to form, he added, curt and concise, “You can stay here and unpack. Figure out what else you need from the store.”

“All right,” Anduin felt a little resigned, but he knew there was no use arguing. Besides, with his father gone, he might have an easier time getting to know his roommate. Pulling out the first pair of jeans from his box and looking back up at his father, he smiled, as if to confirm his request. “But please call if you need me to come down and get anything?”

“I will.” There was a pause, and then, wrinkling his nose once more, his father shot a pointed look at the bed. “I wouldn’t put your clothes on that mattress before you get it covered. Trust me on this.”

“Father, it’s fine, I know.” Unable to stop himself, Anduin started to shake with half-contained laughter. He felt a certain heat return to his cheeks, but with it came a smile, as well, and he found it easier to push aside his embarrassment. He glanced over at Nathan, and then gave his father’s arm a slight squeeze. “I’ll be ready when you get back, okay?”

“Okay.” And with that, his father turned and exited, leaving the two boys together in awkward silence.

Much to Anduin’s surprise, it was Nathan who first spoke up, catching his attention right after he passed behind his chair to hang up his jeans. “They’re dragging us to a pep rally tonight.”

Anduin turned to look at him, watching him close his half-eaten food and toss it in the trash. Eyes widening slightly, he clutched the hanger between his hands for a moment, waiting to see if his roommate had anything else to say. When he didn’t elaborate, Anduin prompted him, “A pep rally?”

“An assembly, rather. Something to inspire the incoming students. It will be a _fun_ event, I’m sure.”

Anduin knew he was being sarcastic, but still fell back into a cheerful, if not somewhat forced, smile, not sure how else to answer him. “Oh, I’m sure!” He exclaimed before turning and hooking the hanger over the bar. Satisfied, he brushed past Nathan and made his way back over to the bed. “I don’t know, maybe it will be okay?”

“I suppose, if you’re into that sort of thing.” 

Anduin felt the corners of his mouth start to strain from holding them up, so he pursed them thoughtfully for a moment, pretending to be fascinated by the second pair of pants he removed and draped over a hanger. Lowering his voice, he tried a new tactic, an honest confession, “I’m not really, no. Not into sports, I mean. I watch them with father sometimes, but I’ve never liked pep rallies.”

Nathan laughed, once, cool and dour. If it were possible for a chuckle to be non-committal, it was this, and Anduin wasn’t quite sure what to say. In the absence of any follow-up remarks, he just circled around the other boy’s belongings and hung up his pants in the closet. When he turned back, Nathan had pulled out a box and was lifting a large green-and-black gaming tower onto the edge of his desk.

Anduin hurried over to steady the surface, letting out a small, surprised sound as he watched the heavy object slide back into the corner. Nathan said nothing, offered neither thanks nor assurance, but Anduin hadn’t really expected he would. Instead he just knelt to retrieve the monitor, leaving Anduin lingering awkwardly for a moment before he gave up and walked back to his side of the room.

What a strange guy, he finally admitted to himself. He liked to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but this one seemed…difficult. Well, he mused, hopefully he was just feeling shy. 

Sinking down on the corner of the bed, Anduin removed his sheets and set them aside, then reached back in to pull out a framed picture of his mother holding him as a baby. As always, it made him smile. He placed it lovingly on his shelf, admiring the way the dorm’s fluorescent lights played on its blue-and-gold frame.

“About the pep rally,” he tried again after a pause. This seemed to get Nathan’s attention, because he dropped the headset he was holding onto his desk and turned to shoot Anduin a look. “I wonder if they’re taking attendance?”

“I doubt it. That seems rather excessive, even for ‘welcome week.’ Our RA said it’s his job to collect us.” 

Inspired by what felt like his first real breakthrough, Anduin nodded, choosing his words carefully but making sure his meaning was still quite clear. “Well, then, I could always let our RA know you aren’t feeling well tonight.” 

The faintest hint of a smile crossed Nathan’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Still, Anduin had to admit, it was better than nothing. “Yes, I suppose that would work.”

“All right!” His own cheerful voice contrasted the other’s, but he didn’t let it deter him. Now feeling considerably lighter, he peeked back into the box and looked for his last few items. He removed a stuffed lion, which he placed, rather shamelessly, on top of a stack of sheets, and then stuck his small rainbow flag into its stand and let it join the picture of his mother. 

He pulled out a few shells he and his father had collected on their vacation that summer, and then felt around until his fingers closed around something else, another framed photo. Peeking in, he was greeted by an image of himself in a tuxedo pinning a flower on a tall boy with long, thick braids. Swallowing, he felt his happiness starting to waver, and, holding his breath, he quickly turned it over and left it where it lay at the bottom of the empty tub.

Unable to stop himself, his thoughts strayed to Baine, wondering if he was enjoying his move-in, if his roommate was just as unfriendly as Nathan. With an exhale, he closed the box and placed it under the bed, shuffling to the doorway and waiting at the threshold for his father. 

Just as he looked down the hall, someone emerged from the elevator: a smaller boy with dark-skin and long gold nails that glittered under the dorm’s harsh lights. He was trailed by two women—his mothers, perhaps—carrying a television screen, but his own hands were empty save for the folder and keychain he had been handed at the door. Catching Anduin’s eye, his brows arched slightly. 

Anduin opened his mouth to greet him, but he simply brushed past the room, looking over his shoulder and addressing the women in a soft, melodic voice. “Oh, look, it seems to be at the end of the hall. How fortuitous! I do hope that screen isn’t too heavy.”

What? _Fortuitous._ Anduin couldn’t help but shake his head a bit as he stepped back into his room to make sure the television had enough space to pass. Was everyone on his floor this dramatic? If so, he didn’t need to worry too much about sticking out.

After the group departed with a few huffs and a particularly strong waft of cologne, he returned to the threshold to find his father with a box under one arm and a suitcase trailing behind from the other. Limping out to meet him, he took the suitcase handle and dragged it into his room, then made space on the bed to plop down the heavy tub of books.

His father dusted off his hands, and, not even bothering to lower his voice, proclaimed, tired and more than a little concerned, “Some of these students have single bedrooms. Are you sure you don’t want to be moved?”

“Father!” Anduin exclaimed. He shot a quick glance at Nathan, but the boy seemed more interested in trying to set up his second monitor than paying the two any kind of attention. Well, at least he didn’t seem offended. Forcing his voice to remain steady, he returned his attention to his father, his gaze earnest, but his smile strained and drawn. “I’ll be okay. Really, I promise.”

____________________

Anduin’s first three weeks passed in a blur. One moment he was receiving syllabi and meeting his new instructors and the next it seemed he had reached the first test or essay assignment. He didn’t mind, of course. In fact, he liked most of his classes and enjoyed spending quiet hours during the day reading in the lounge in his dorm. He had even made a few trips to the library and was impressed by all it had to offer.

But there was one class that stood out the most, one he anticipated every week with equal parts nerves and enthusiasm: “Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion” with Professor Sonny Dezco, which met twice a week in the late morning in the building across from his dorm.

And it was not necessarily the subject matter that left him feeling stirred, so much as it was debating with _him_ , that boy who lived down his hall. 

Today…was no exception. In fact, Wrathion seemed to be in fine form and ready to fight. Flicking the bent corner of his copy of _City of God_ with a single acrylic nail, the boy watched him from across their circle, words already starting to form on his lips as he awaited Anduin’s response.

For his part, Anduin fought to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t want to upset his professor or let too much emotion creep into his voice, but it was hard with that boy looking on, so eager and smug to fight him. Swallowing down any strain in his throat, Anduin finally tried his voice:

“I just don’t think you can say the idea of goodness itself is silly. I mean, yes, bad things happen, and people make bad decisions, but I’ve seen people make good choices, too, even when they have nothing to gain. I’m not sure, I’m just trying to understand how he can say everyone is ‘inherently bad’ when there’s so much good in the world.”

“Well, first of all,” Wrathion cut in with his usual drawl, not even waiting for the professor’s response. Anduin gritted his teeth. It rubbed him the wrong way—that rudeness and arrogance! —and he tried to make up for it by forcing his own weak smile. The professor seemed unconcerned, though, or, at least, unsurprised. He leaned back against his podium and turned his gaze back to Wrathion.

“As I said before, I do not see people as _inherently bad_ so much as selfishly invested in their own survival. Think of it as the ‘natural state’ outlined by Thomas Hobbes.” His piercing eyes cast a long look in Anduin’s direction, making no secret of who he was addressing. Anduin felt a hint of color start to rise to his cheeks when the boy continued with a curt: “You are familiar with that one, I’m sure.”

Anduin was not familiar with that one beyond a brief mention in his European History textbook, and he suspected Wrathion knew as much. How could someone take so much pleasure in teasing him like this? What had he done to warrant this treatment except mention how happy he was to see a familiar face in his class? 

When Anduin raised his hand to reply, he felt a small quiver go through his fingers. He clenched them, hoping to mask the tremor as a quick flex of his hand.

Dr. Dezco nodded in his direction, and he replied, his voice less confident and rehearsed than he would have liked but it was the best he could manage through the lump that had formed in his throat. “I do understand what Wrathion said about selfishness, but I also think that’s a depressing way of looking at the world, and it doesn’t always hold true. People do the right thing when there’s no reason to, nobody watching or telling them they should.”

He could tell from Wrathion’s parted lips and the ‘clck-clck’ of his nails on the desk that he wanted to add another smug remark, but Anduin persisted. Straightening in his chair, he glanced over at Arator, seeking some kind of validation. His friend, however, stared blankly down at his notebook, pencil poised, and it was clear he didn’t want to get involved. 

Anduin’s stomach clenched, and he hurried out the quickest conclusion he could muster, “They make choices that will actively put them in danger to help somebody else, not to just look like a hero, or…or anything like that.”

He hadn’t meant to squeak out those final words, and after he said them, he felt the flush on his cheeks start to burn. Why did Wrathion always get to him like this? Reminding himself it was just a discussion, that their teacher and the rest of the class were probably feeling increasingly more uncomfortable with their snappy replies, he clenched his jaw and willed everything in him to settle.

Finally, he managed to meet Wrathion’s gaze and offer him a conciliatory look. When Wrathion spoke again, it was with sharp eyes and a smooth tone that was clearly meant only for him. “Yes, well, Anduin, I believe we are dealing with a panopticon situation, are we not? Submission to a higher authority—whether that be God or government—as part of the social contract spreads the belief that someone, at any time, could be watching and judging. Whether that is true or not, anticipation, and, dare I say, fear force that person to quell his selfishness and behave in the way he wants to be seen by the world. It really may be as simple as that.”

“I, uh, think we may be getting a bit ahead of ourselves with that one,” Dr. Dezco finally cut in. “But thank you, Wrathion, for that closing thought.”

Anduin couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to continue—honestly, he was curious what Wrathion meant by ‘panopticon’ and hoped the professor would clarify—but something about the way Wrathion clenched his hands and scooted up in his chair made him feel like this would continue forever if he and the teacher weren’t careful. 

What a strange person Wrathion was. He seemed so intelligent and self-assured, but when he debated it was almost like…a tremor foretelling an earthquake, a sense that one day he’d just snap and storm out. Dramatic didn’t even begin to qualify it.

Anduin shook his head and tried to focus on Dezco’s chalk knocking against the board as he added some closing notes and explained their upcoming assignments. When he was sure the professor had finished, he slid his notebook and copy of _City of God_ into his backpack and reached for the cane he had propped against the side of his desk.

By the time Anduin texted Tess to confirm their lunch plans and waited for the elevator that took him to the ground floor, the halls were mostly empty. Students had either left the building or filed into their next classroom, leaving only a few stragglers sitting on the floor with their laptops propped on their legs or clustering around the bathroom door. He paused to crack his knee, then, after readjusting his backpack, made his way towards the door, enjoying the cool breeze that passed through whenever someone entered or exited.

But then, a voice in the stairwell to his left caught his attention: a soft, familiar drawl he at first assumed was directed at him. After a quick glance, however, he realized Wrathion was speaking into his phone, its small dragon charm swinging beside his cheek as he took the stairs at a saunter. 

Not knowing what else to do, he froze, lingering in the entry and pretending to check his own phone. The other boy didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in what seemed to be a rather spirited chat with the person on the other end of the line.

Anduin didn’t mean to listen, but it was hard not to catch a few words with the echo that passed down the hall. 

“Yes, yes, mother, I know.” His laptop bag swung beside his waist when he reached for the door. The light caught one of his rings, sending a small rainbow of light dancing across the opposite wall and catching Anduin’s gaze. He waited, thumbing absentmindedly at his screen. 

It wasn’t long before Wrathion spoke again: “No, honestly, you and mom don’t need to come back up this weekend. Truly, I’m fine. I realize she is concerned, but I promise, I am getting—”

Anduin didn’t catch the rest. After hearing the door swing closed, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Straightening, then leaning back onto his cane, he limped over to the door and stepped out into the late September breeze.

Once outside, he smiled and took a moment to enjoy the earthy smell of leaves and the distant whistle of students out playing soccer. For a moment, the snippet of Wrathion’s conversation passed forgotten, but by the time he made it to the sidewalk he realized he could hear him again. He bit his lip and tried to hold back. He realized at once they were probably headed to the same place, and the last thing he wanted was to make things awkward. 

“No, God, no, tell her not to do that. I am not going to go door-to-door like some kind of welcome committee! No, that would certainly get them laughing. That is the last thing I want!”

Wrathion paused, but only long enough to draw in a breath, before adding, “Yes, I realize everyone likes pizza, but I cannot be awkward about it.”

For the first time, Anduin let himself wonder what the other boy was discussing. It seemed like whoever was on the other end—his mother, he quickly remembered—was concerned about something, but any need to venture a guess was cut off when he heard him say:

“I am making friends, I swear to you. Please, tell her not to worry. I’m heading to meet some friends in the lunchroom. There’s no reason for her to fuss over me like this.” 

Oh. ‘Well, maybe if he tried being friendly,’ Anduin started to think, but instantly scolded himself. His stomach clenched. He looked down and watched his shadow shift slightly beneath his feet. He wanted to get the other boy out of earshot, but it was hard when his musical voice caught so easily in the wind.

“Yes, yes, of course. Please tell her I am doing just fine. She may call me when she gets off work if it will put her at ease. Yes,” he paused at the intersection, glanced both ways, and then headed to the opposite corner. Anduin waited for a few cars to pass, the soft hum of their motors and the squeak of a wheel finally, thankfully, cutting in between him and Wrathion’s discussion.

That respite didn’t last long, though. Just as Anduin had suspected, Wrathion, too, was headed for the door to their common area and the walkway that led to the dining hall. His steps started to slow as he approached, making it harder and harder to keep his distance. Anduin watched as he leaned against the rail and gazed out over the quad, toying with a curl the phone seemed to have pushed out of place. 

He spoke faster, as if trying, desperately, to put an end to the conversation. Anduin overheard:

“Yes, I will try speaking with him. Yes, of course, I am always cheerful. Yes, I know you want me to be happy. I really do need to go, though. I have already made it to the door,” he started to lower the phone, as if putting it away would make the conversation cease. 

Anduin could almost feel the other boy’s desperation. It was palpable, and again, shame started to well up in the pit of his chest, guilt at listening in on something so personal. He cast another glance down at the ground. Clenching his fingers around the top of his cane, he rounded the corner, and, slowly, started up the ramp that would lead him to Wrathion.

Whether the other boy finally noticed him or not, he couldn’t be sure, but, all at once, his chat wound down with a final reply: “Yes, mother, I love you, too. I hope you enjoy your lunch, as well. Yes, all right, good bye.” 

And with that, Wrathion clicked his nail against his phone screen, tucked the phone in his pocket, and disappeared through the door. 

With Wrathion gone, Anduin could finally relax his shoulders and will the throb of his heart to slow. Squeezing closed his eyes and wrapping a trembling hand around the door handle, he pulled it and stepped in out of the sunlight. He fought to keep his mind from wandering to the concerns Wrathion’s mother must have been voicing or to his curt, even forced, replies. 

She had clearly offered advice, but all he really needed to do was stop antagonizing. Anduin had wanted to be his friend! If he was lonely, why couldn’t he just talk rather than flaunting his knowledge of philosophy in everyone’s face? It didn’t make any sense. 

Still, there was a part of Anduin—the part that insisted on kindness—that urged him to try again. He thought back to the months he had spent in recovery after his accident and how hopeless he had felt when everyone but his father seemed to have forgotten him. A slight ache grew and spread from his heart to his lips. Biting down, he rounded the corner, promising himself that if he saw Wrathion in the lunchroom he’d at least offer him a smile.

What he didn’t expect, however, was to see him again so soon. He hadn’t had time to still his trembling legs before Wrathion darted out of the the dorm’s convenient store in front of him with a sandwich clutched to his chest. Their eyes locked. Wrathion’s dark cheeks paled, and then, without a word, he stepped out of Anduin’s path. 

This was it, his chance. He opened his mouth but the sound he managed was high and incoherent, not at all what he had hoped for. Wrathion simply curled his lips in a forced half-simper, and then, without paying the lunchroom even a second glance, he straightened his shoulders and headed to the stairwell that led to the dorm rooms above.

He wasn’t meeting anyone. That much was clear. He had lied, and now he was running up to his room to each lunch alone. The realization came with another wave of regret, and for a single moment, Anduin thought to stop him. He could invite him to join him for lunch. It was the right thing to do! And yet—

It was hard. He could show up with someone friendly and kind, sure. But someone like Wrathion? Was that fair to Tess and her girlfriend? And what if Wrathion laughed or accused him of…what? Faking kindness? Performing for the panopticon, whatever that even meant?

Wrathion’s footfalls faded into the distance behind him, and he swallowed. His eyes searched the crowd of students waiting to get in to the dining hall until he finally found his friend and a girl with dark bobbed hair waiting in line beside her. Breathing, straightening, willing the guilt and concern and regret in his stomach to soften, he held up his free hand and waved.

____________________

It was already half past two when Anduin decided he should finally try to sleep. Nathan had gone for his shower, leaving him in much-needed silence after the four hours he had spent trying to muffle him snapping into his headset. Removing his own headphones and setting his phone aside, he rose, straightened his t-shirt and blue sleep pants, and made his way to the communal bathroom.

The halls…weren’t quite _empty_ , but at least the hum of activity had started to settle. The bathroom wasn’t too far, only a few rooms away from Anduin’s, so it didn’t take long to arrive. He pressed the door inward, blinking slightly as harsh fluorescent light flooded his vision. When his eyes adjusted, he prepared to make for the line of sinks along the opposite wall. 

But then, he turned and saw something that gave him pause.

At the far right corner of the room, just before the step leading up to the showers, Nathan stood with his lips set in a scowl. Anduin wasn’t particularly surprised to see him looking unpleasant, not after hearing him scream at his teammates for the last few hours, but it was the stare on Wrathion’s face beside him that sent a chill to the pit of his stomach. 

The boy hugged—no, clung to—the towel wrapped around his body. His lips fought to sneer back up at Nathan, but they were failing, trembling with whatever had just happened to make him hold his towel so desperately. His eyes were wide, and it felt like something hung in the air: some kind of taunt or threat that Anduin may have missed but was still palpable in the space between them.

Anduin froze, looking between his smug roommate and the boy who, for once, looked more scared than assured. What on earth had he walked in on?

“Anduin,” Nathan was the first to acknowledge him. He started to nod, but his gaze remained fixed on Wrathion.

Something was definitely wrong. He knew Wrathion would never turn and ask for help, but he couldn’t just leave and go wash his face like he hadn’t seen the discomfort in his wide eyes. That debate he had held with himself by the lunchroom, his opinion of Wrathion, and all he had overheard were just murmurs in the back of his mind, overwhelmed by an urgency he felt but could not fully explain. Shaking slightly, he jumped in with the first thing that came to mind. 

His voice faltered, but he persisted, hands clenching and unclenching down by his sides. “Oh, hey, Wrathion,” he hoped the unfamiliar words didn’t come out sounding too frantic, “I wanted to ask you a couple things about class. Um, you know, about the panopticon, and all that. Do you mind if I come to your room?”

Whatever tension hung in the air seemed to shatter. Wrathion stood up straighter, loosening his grip on the corner of his towel just enough that his knuckles were no longer pale. Without another glance paid in Nathan’s direction, he stepped forward, seeming to measure and time every stride he made over in Anduin’s direction.

“Oh, yes, of course,” he exclaimed a bit too loudly. His voice sounded just as assured as usual, but the forced grin on his lips told a wildly different story. Anduin struggled not too look too closely, not wanting to make the boy even more uncomfortable. 

“Yes, please, right this way. I can even show you my philosophy collection, if you wish. I’m sure you’ll find something that excites you!” 

Wrathion had already brushed past him and reached for the door when Anduin reacted. Chasing away the tremor that threatened his shoulders and avoiding his roommate’s gaze, he limped forward, trying to match Wrathion’s pace as the boy stepped over the threshold and took off towards his room at the end of the hall. 

It wasn’t until they were alone in the corridor that the rush of adrenaline he had felt in the bathroom abated to nervous jitters and doubt about what he’d just chosen to do. His first instinct was to ask what had happened, to apologize for being presumptuous, but when he started to open his mouth Wrathion cut in. Unlike their exchanges in class, however, this time he wasn’t annoyed, but relieved.

“So, the panopticon. Is that honestly keeping you up at night, Anduin?” Wrathion worded it as a question, but from the shake of his head it was clear he didn’t intend for it to be answered. Instead he just held his towel and quickened his pace, leaving Anduin a few steps behind to watch it swish around the back of his knees and catch his curls bouncing slightly as he dug out his key from the bag of toiletries around his wrist.

In fact, for a moment, Anduin might have even forgotten that fear he had seen on his face, if not for the way he fumbled and struggled to get the key into the lock. His finger slipped the first time, his nail clicking against its bronze surface. On the second try, he finally got it in, and turned the latch before giving the door a careful nudge with his forearm.

Anduin watched, his breath still caught in his chest, which tightened once more when he followed the other boy inside. Now he was keenly aware of their aloneness, of the unfamiliar room and the way silence threatened to descend on them whenever Wrathion paused. 

Trying his best to follow the other boy’s lead, he wandered about halfway inside and then paused to look around. Wrathion continued by circling around him and heading over towards the closet, swinging open the door and stepping behind it in one fluid motion. 

He called back in a voice lower and slightly more strained than usual, “One moment, please, while I get dressed. Feel free to sit down on my bed if you’d like.” 

“All right, thank you!” Anduin was quick to reply, turning himself slightly away from the closet and settling onto the mattress. Wrathion’s bed was covered in a gold duvet and pillows that picked up hues of violet and magenta when the light played on their surface. It seemed fitting, somehow, flashy like his nails and that golden dragon charm on his phone. Finally, Anduin let his shoulders unwind and started to take it all in.

His eyes moved from Wrathion’s bed to a shelf stuffed with books, many of which were titles Anduin recognized but had never gotten around to reading. On top of the bookcase was a picture of Wrathion with the two women he had seen in the hall, their arms wrapped around him and the three of them beaming. It looked like it had been taken at Disney World a couple of years ago. Anduin couldn’t help but feel endeared, a small smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

Caught up in his own curiosity, he was almost surprised when Wrathion cut in again, “So, the panopticon, or, to be more precise, Foucault’s theory of the panoptic gaze. I am sure you at least know what a panopticon is. Didn’t I hear you say your father is a DA or something of that persuasion?”

“A judge, actually,” Anduin replied, silently thankful he didn’t have to answer the first statement, instead. 

“Oh, yes, of course. But a major player in the criminal justice system, in any case,” Wrathion mused for a moment and then gave the closet door a slight pull inward. Anduin heard a few boxes sliding forward, their rattles joining the slight ‘tng’ of a hanger being pulled. 

Wrathion turned and tossed out a couple of books and a boxed card deck out on the rug behind him. He continued his rant undeterred, “In any case, I will gladly loan you the book if you wish to brush up on your Foucault before class, but for now, perhaps you can share the essence of your question, so I know where to start?”

“Oh,” Anduin suddenly felt the wind had been knocked from his chest. Oh, right, the question. Clasping clammy hands together in his lap, he let his gaze stray to the blank television screen on the desk in front of him. He swallowed, and tried his best to piece together a sentence, “Well, uh, basically all of it. I mean, what did you mean by indirect control, and all—”

“There wasn’t really a question, was there, Anduin?”

He had been caught. He bit his lip, shocked by how heavy it suddenly felt. He didn’t know what to say. “I, well, I was confused—”

“Oh, Anduin,” Wrathion tossed out another book. Anduin stared as it bounced once, then fell open in a ruffle of yellowed pages. Its clatter wasn’t quite enough to muffle the words that followed. “Please, I really don’t need you to save me, as much as I’m sure it made you feel good about yourself.”

Suddenly, his face felt hot. He snapped back, more defensive than he had intended, “I wasn’t-!”

“You were,” Wrathion, on the other hand, kept his own voice neutral. It felt…off against his usual lilt. “And as I said, I do appreciate the gesture, but I hope you realize I could have handled—”

“I just know what a jerk Nathan can be,” It was Anduin’s turn to cut in, and the move seemed to shock Wrathion into silence. He paused, giving Anduin a moment to exhale, sit up, clench his hands a bit tighter and finally fumble through what he had wanted to say since they arrived, “I have no idea what happened, and if me trying to help offended you, well, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t just leave you like that.”

“Like what?” Now Wrathion had stopped completely. Anduin heard nothing moving within the closet save the slight huff of the other boy’s breath.

“With him. With Nathan, I mean. Trust me.” And with that, he knew he had said enough. Wrathion nudged open the door and re-emerged in a black tank and purple boxers. On his face was some unreadable mix of hesitation and feigned indifference, but he didn’t let Anduin dwell on it for long, instead leaning down, scooping up a book off the floor, and wandering over towards the bed.

He stopped just before the corner of the mattress, holding out a book titled _Discipline and Punish_ between two tightly-clenched hands. “In any case,” he explained, “This is the one. Please, feel free to borrow it as long as you would like, or, rather, as long as you need.”

Anduin looked up at him with arched brows. It was the same kind of backhanded comment that usually rubbed him the wrong way, but hearing him say it now, in his room, it hardly had the same bite. Instead, it felt more like an offering, a kind of attempt at normalcy. 

Anduin nodded, reaching out and touching the book’s weathered cover. “Thank you, Wrathion. And maybe when I’m done, we can have a real discussion about it.”

That seemed to shift some of the tension in the air. Anduin looked into Wrathion’s eyes, and, when he accepted the book, the other boy’s lips softened to something more akin to a smile than his usual smirk. For a moment, Anduin barely recognized him. If anything, he looked like the happy boy in the photo, not the one who took digs at his amateur opinions about philosophy.

It…was nice. It lasted for only a glimmer of a second, but still Anduin’s chest felt lighter and his shoulder blades stopped clenching together. He decided to chance it, bringing the book down to rest on his lap and then pointing to the box of cards he had seen Wrathion toss on the floor.

“You like card games?” He asked, and then added without waiting to hear his response, “I do, too. I have a couple of decks in my room, as well. Do you like board games, too?”

“Oh!” Wrathion exclaimed. He seemed so genuinely taken aback that at first Anduin worried he’d made a mistake. But then he realized Wrathion was doubling back to pick up the cards and toss them onto the bed. A moment later, he sank down, the twin mattress squeaking slightly under the change in weight. Anduin scooted back onto the pillows to make more room.

“Yes, I play an elemental deck, mostly. I found the new release had several elemental cards that suited my play style. And I’m guessing you—” Their eyes met. Anduin felt himself grinning. “I’m guessing you, Anduin, play a light deck. Those angel cards seem more your style.”

He chuckled. How could he not? The other boy’s words were just as smug as usual, but they felt friendly somehow, and his excitement was visceral. It was difficult not to get swept up in it. 

“Yes, you got me. You really are perceptive, aren’t you?” He teased in response, happy when Wrathion’s grin didn’t fade. “I would have guessed shadow for you. I mean, it seems appropriately dramatic.”

“Ah, yes, well, I did enjoy the vampire cards back in high school, I must admit. But thankfully I have grown out of that phase of my life.”

It was so honest, so unexpected, that Anduin felt emboldened. He reached down and cracked open the card box, pulling out a single lovingly-sleeved card and holding it up to the light. On it he saw a dragon whelp puffing fire with a toothy smile on his maw. He glanced over at Wrathion, making a deliberate show of comparing the two images. “Yeah, on second thought, I can see the resemblance. His earring looks just like yours.”

“Well, how do you know that wasn’t on purpose, hm?”

“That’s true. I just assumed you both like being noticed.” 

Wrathion paused and lapsed into silence for a moment. It wasn’t the kind of awkward pause that had set in when they entered the room, but it was enough that Anduin started to fear he had taken his comments too far. Carefully, he set down the card on the bed between them, and waited as Wrathion leaned back against the shelf, let out a sigh, and then continued in a low voice:

“You know, they told me I have to use the shower downstairs, but that’s totally unreasonable. I am not going to walk all over this building in my towel. How absurd.”

Anduin was quick to nod, but it was short, hesitant, even. Once again, he wasn’t sure what Wrathion was trying to say, and he didn’t want to cross any lines. After a few moments of wondering, he started to open his mouth. Thankfully, Wrathion explained before he had to ask.

“I’m transgender, you see,” he said, with a blasé wave of his hand. Anduin felt his brows raise slightly, his eyes widening as he pieced together what must have occurred in the bathroom. He couldn’t believe Nathan. How could he? He had to fight not to look shocked or upset by his roommate’s actions, not when Wrathion seemed so intent on speaking so casually about it. 

“Oh, okay,” he started to reply, but Wrathion just continued:

“And bi, and adopted, and ‘gifted,’ with two lesbian parents. But, in any case, that is enough about me,” Wrathion laughed again—a giggle that came out slightly nervous—but Anduin let him play it off. He listened as he continued, “You asked me if I play any board games, did you not? I used to paint miniatures, actually. Next time my mothers decide to visit they can bring them up, if you wish.”

Again, Anduin felt his shoulders relax. He would have to have a stern talk with Nathan tomorrow, but for now, it was nice to chat with Wrathion like this. 

He turned to lean slightly against the shelf beside him, letting his gaze wander back to the empty television screen. When he spoke again, it was soft and relaxed, easy, even, despite the slight thud of his heart in his chest. 

“Yes, I’d like that,” he admitted, earnest and pleased. “And if you want, I can ask my dad to bring up a few board games. I have a few that are co-op, if you like that kind of thing. Or we can stick to competitive.”

“Competitive sounds perfect. Yes, thank you, Anduin. Honestly, I would enjoy that immensely.”

____________________

Anduin blinked, rolling over slightly only to find not his own soft pillow under his head but a decorative one, complete with gold trim and tassel. A large television spilled colorful light across the floor, and in the background he caught the soft sound of a musical score. ‘Oh, that’s right,’ he realized at once. He was in Wrathion’s room, they had been watching _Guardians of the Galaxy_ , and then…

Glancing to his right, he found the other boy curled up with a pillow hugged to his chest. Even when Anduin shifted the mattress to sit up, he neither stirred nor blinked awake. His curly hair spilled out across his gold duvet, his goatee sticking out from being rubbed against its satin surface, and his lips parted, ever so slightly, as he let out a soft exhale.

Anduin watched him for a moment, smiling to himself. His cheeks felt a bit warmer than usual, and he couldn’t help but notice how gentle Wrathion looked sleeping like that. Careful not to disturb him, he eased his feet down onto the floor. Making sure to grab Wrathion’s book in one hand, he used the other to grip the wall beside him for leverage, and then, as quietly as possible, limped over to the exit.

He glanced back once more. Wrathion had finally squirmed, digging his nails into the pillow. His eyes, however, remained closed. Whispering a soft ‘good night,’ Anduin nodded and reached for the light switch. Darkness flooded the space between them, leaving Wrathion bathed in the soft purple halo that spilled from the tv screen. Resisting the urge to keep lingering, Anduin eased open the door and stepped out into the hall.

By the time he arrived in his own room, all the lights, even the lime green glow cast by Nathan’s keyboard, were off. His roommate slept with his comforter pulled up over his head. When Anduin saw him, his eyes narrowed, and, again, his heart clenched with a surge of irritation. How could Nathan be so unkind and come back here like nothing had even happened, like nothing was wrong? Anduin hated being angry, but frankly it disgusted him. 

Forcing himself to leave that matter until morning, however, he sighed and eased himself down onto his own bed. He slid up to his pillow and then fumbled in the dark for his phone, finally closing his fingers around it and poking it back to life. His cat’s meowing orange face came as a welcome sight, and, rolling away from Nathan, he scrolled through his notifications until he found the one he was looking for. 

There is was, one missed call, two hours ago from an area code he didn’t recognize. He smiled, then clicked through to add the number to his contacts. ‘Wrathion,’ he quickly typed, and then, on impulse, added a flying dragon emoji beside it. Satisfied, he started a new message, typing out a short greeting:

‘Hey, Wrathion. I’m glad we got to talk tonight.’

Hitting send, he paused for a moment, then added with his fingers tapping quickly across the screen:

‘I think they’re showing the new Marvel movie on campus next weekend. Want to go with me? It’s okay if you already have plans. Just let me know!’

His heart was pounding in his ears, his fingers trembling slightly when he clicked his thumb against the send icon. He hoped he didn’t wake up to some snappy retort mocking his friendly gesture, but somehow, he suspected that wouldn’t be the case. Letting out a long exhale, he set down the phone beside Wrathion’s book, pulled his blanket up over his shoulders, and tried his best to drift back into sleep. 

But it was difficult when his thoughts kept straying to him.

____________________

“I mean, I get what you’re saying,” Anduin made no move to exit the classroom when the other students started filing out. His attention, instead, was turned to the desk to his left, the desk Wrathion had chosen unannounced at the start of the period. He smiled, but the other boy’s stare remained as piercing and serious as ever. “And trust me, I’m sure many people make choices based on how they think they’ll be perceived, but that can’t be everything.”

“Oh? Please explain, my dear. I’m afraid I can’t follow your meaning.”

Anduin knew it was meant to tease, but that didn’t stop the color from rising to his pale cheeks. He watched as Wrathion set down his pen above a page full of notes, watched it roll down a few swirling lines before he caught it and flicked it back forward. The whole thing was done with a kind of absent-minded grace, and Anduin almost got lost in it. Catching himself staring, he cleared his throat and tried his best to reassemble his thoughts. Wrathion looked on searchingly. 

“What I mean is,” he sat up a bit straighter, finally making a move to start putting his books away. “Yes, of course, people make choices like…like not shoplifting not necessarily because they know someone’s watching but because they think they could be watching. I get it. That kind of thing does control society in a lot of ways.”

Wrathion’s grin widened. He followed Anduin’s movements, folding up his sheet of notes and tucking it in his book before sliding it in to the front pocket of his laptop carrier. Rising from his seat, he lingered and waited for Anduin to join him. 

“Precisely! Society itself is about the illusion of direct control. We think someone may catch us acting up, and so we do not. It’s really as simple as that.”

“But not—” Anduin continued, as if he had never paused— “in every case.”

“All right, then. How so?”

Closing his fingers over the top of his cane, Anduin rose to standing, leaning against it as he jostled his backpack strap first over one shoulder, and then, with a bit of balancing, over the other. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Professor Dezco lingering a few paces away. He clutched an eraser in his hand but made no move to actually clear the board, instead shifting slightly, setting his lips in a line that only barely masked his concern. Wanting to reassure him, Anduin flashed him a smile. With that, he quickly turned and swiped the eraser once, then twice, across the board in almost-frantic strokes. 

Did their teacher think they were about to start fighting, or what? Anduin had to struggle not to let his amusement get the better of him, not wanting Wrathion to think he was laughing at _him_. 

“I guess what I mean is we definitely do react to the idea of being caught but being caught alone isn’t the only thing that motivates us to do good. Look at the way people act online. Plenty of people do hide behind a screen, but many others donate money, reach out to people in need, and advocate for important causes even when no one knows who they are. What about that?”

Anduin waved slightly to Dezco when they passed, but his back remained turned. By the time they reached the door, the hallway was mostly empty, but Wrathion made no move to lower his voice. In fact, the silence seemed to inspire him. “But in all those cases, there is still the possibility of being seen, you see. If you donate to a cause, even anonymously, I imagine you secretly hope your friend suspects that $50 submission came from you.”

Laughing slightly, Anduin shook his head, “If that were true, why even donate anonymously?”

“And,” Wrathion added, punctuating each word for emphasis. “There is, of course, the notion of one’s online persona as an entirely new level of their identity. It fascinates me, really. I do hope we see more theoretical work being done in that direction in the future, don’t you?”

“Well, maybe you’re the one who could do it. Dr. Wrathion Prestor, modern philosopher! I mean, you do love to talk.”

The tease seemed to have the desired effect. Wrathion’s cheeks darkened slightly and he slowed his pace to flash Anduin a smile. Anduin easily returned it, and, caught up as he was, he barely noticed the bathroom door beside them swinging inward until Arator called his name.

He turned, lifting his free hand to wave. The blond boy paused and glanced between them, his brows arching ever-so-slightly, “Have a nice weekend.”

It sounded more like a question than a statement. Beside him, Wrathion lapsed into uncharacteristic silence. Keenly aware of the confusion on Arator’s face, Anduin laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly, and offered a cheerful: “You too! And see you at youth group on Sunday night?” 

“Yes, see you then.” That finally earned him a smile. After hesitating for a few steps, Arator turned to his left and headed down the hall in the opposite direction. 

Wrathion waited until he was out of earshot before jumping back to their previous debate. Was he being…shy? Anduin couldn’t help but wonder, studying the boy’s dark eyes for any hint that something was wrong. But after their pause, he smirked again, chasing away any of Anduin’s lingering concerns with a short, and blunt, “See. It is all about how others perceive us. It boils down to the same issue, does it not?”

“Not always,” Anduin shook his head and insisted. “What about when you’re totally alone and thinking to yourself? Don’t you ever think, ‘oh, I shouldn’t think that,’ or ‘oh, that’s mean’ when there’s no one to hear it but you?”

“But that is where religion comes into play, my dear. What is God but another panopticon, one that may be watching at any point, at any time of the day?”

“Wait, but aren’t you an atheist?” Anduin laughed, turning slightly towards the elevator and smiling when Wrathion followed. “Haven’t you bragged about that at least ten times since this course began?”

“Agnostic! Agnostic. I cannot pretend to know everything about the universe, even if I do know quite a bit.”

“Agnostic! Well, then. Is the possibility of not knowing whether God exists enough to keep your thoughts in line? Or are you telling me you sit around seething all day?”

It was a playful jab, and, thankfully, Wrathion took it in stride. When the elevator doors split open, he stepped in and turned to make room for Anduin to enter beside him. Limping forward, Anduin offered a grateful nod. The two settled together against the back rail and made room for others to enter. 

“No, of course not,” Wrathion dropped his voice to a whisper. Keenly aware of the way their shoulders pressed together and the way it made his heart catch in his throat, Anduin averted his gaze. Something was happening, and he knew it, but putting it into words was far too embarrassing. The things that had once annoyed him about Wrathion now made his pulse flutter and his face feel hot. He silently prayed Wrathion hadn’t noticed the slight tremor that passed through his when their arms first touched.

“All I am saying,” he murmured, in a voice as smooth as it was confident, which certainly didn’t help Anduin’s predicament in the slightest, “Is that is panopticism in a nutshell. It is all about possible observation, not definite surveillance.” 

Anduin offered a single nod in response. It was only after they had exited the elevator and stepped out the doors into the early autumn breeze that he spoke again, “I guess I just see things differently. In my experience, it seems like most people want to do the right thing initially, and it’s bad circumstances, negative emotions, or their own failures that drag them onto the wrong path. I mean—” 

He expected Wrathion to cut him off, but the other boy had gone silent, staring at the street ahead of them with thoughtful consideration. Taking a moment to look around and check if anyone they knew was nearby, Anduin lowered his voice and continued:

“I mean, it’s like when Nathan tries to flirt with his ‘queen’ on Twitch and she turns him down so he turns around and snaps at me for making too much noise. There’s more to good and bad choices than being afraid what someone will think.”

Wrathion’s silence continued. For a moment, he feared bringing up Nathan might not have been the best choice. But then Wrathion turned to look up at him, the corners of his lips twitching and his eyes narrowed in barely-contained amusement. Any tightness in Anduin’s chest started to loosen when Wrathion whispered, “his _queen_.”

“That’s what he calls her, yeah. She’s a famous streamer, I—” Anduin dropped his voice to a whisper, barely audible as a gust of wind swept between them. “I don’t think she likes him too much.”

Normally, Anduin hated speaking ill of others, especially this kind of gossip. But Wrathion’s chuckle—a laugh that lit up his whole face—made it decidedly worth it. Joining him as they walked together down the sidewalk, Anduin savored the soft ‘tch tch’ of his giggle and the way the light played on his deep brunette curls. 

He caught Wrathion watching him, too, and he flashed him a smile, wanting him to know that he was enjoying this, enjoying walking together with him.

It was nearly noon and, as the two of them waited to cross the street, the smell of food wafted in the air, noticeable even through the now-familiar scent of Wrathion’s cologne. Anduin felt his stomach whine. Without hesitation, he reached out and pushed the crosswalk button, then asked, quick and easy, “Hey, do you want to get lunch? I think they’re serving tofu curry today.”

“Tofu curry?” Wrathion smirked. It wasn’t an outright response, but there was no hint of dissent in his voice, either. 

The light overhead started beeping, and, clutching his cane, Anduin followed him out into the street. “Yes,” he replied, “It’s my favorite.” 

“Let me guess, vegetarian?”

“Yes! How did you know?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Wrathion drawled, then stepped up onto the curb, waiting a moment or two for Anduin to catch up. “It seems like a fitting choice for someone so persistently idealistic.”

In the past, Wrathion’s comment might have left him feeling insulted, belittled, even, but now, he just stood beside him and slipped easily into the banter. “Oh? And what do pessimists like to eat? Black coffee? Unseasoned steak?”

“Realist, dear Anduin! Never a pessimist!” Wrathion shook his head a little too hard, his earring jangling and smacking his cheek. The two walked together across the quad and then, with no hesitation or further discussion, rounded the corner and stepped on to the ramp leading in to the dining hall. 

It wasn’t until Wrathion reached for the door, his nails clicking against the handle and glittering in the noontime sun, that he quipped, in a voice as defensive as it was fluid and musical: “And besides, there is absolutely nothing wrong with black coffee!”

____________________

Anduin met Wrathion at his door at seven o’clock the next night. After a quick stop at the sushi restaurant across from the student building, they headed over and got in line. It wasn’t long before they found two seats at the end of a row and settled in together, excitedly debating their favorite heroes and which films they had each enjoyed most.

Watching Wrathion smile, Anduin felt his own face get hot. He was thankful when the lights started to dim and the two could direct their attention up at the movie screen.

About halfway through the movie, however, Anduin started becoming keenly aware of Wrathion’s movements. Whenever he shifted, their shoulders brushed against one another and once or twice Wrathion’s knee bumped against his thigh. When he rested his arm against the armrest, Anduin could feel his warmth—mere inches away from his skin—and he had to struggle not to reach out and touch him. He bit his lip. Breathing in, he caught Wrathion’s scent, and when he exhaled, he worried the other boy might overhear the faint hitch in his breath.

The ease he had finally found in Wrathion’s presence shifted to nerves of a different sort, a kind of jitter that shook from his chest to the tip of his fingers. Finally, he took a chance. Easing his arm onto the rest between them, he leaned in, enjoying the feel of Wrathion’s silky shirt against the bare skin of his forearm. 

The back of their hands brushed together, and Wrathion shot a quick glance down. Before Anduin had a chance to worry he’d made an unwelcome move, however, the other boy’s index finger curled inward, then, casually, hooked over Anduin’s. 

Anduin struggled to find his breath. The events playing out on the screen in front of them were long forgotten, and for a moment all he knew was Wrathion’s soft skin and the way his nail tickled the pad of his trembling finger. 

All at once, they both moved. Anduin pressed their hands together and Wrathion followed his movements, lacing their fingers and giving him a soft squeeze that quickly turned to a cling. They remained like that for several moments, Wrathion’s nails digging into the back of his hand and his own fingers shaking slightly as he traced the curve of Wrathion’s thumb. Their palms grew warm—clammy, even—before finally, reluctantly, Anduin released his grip and shot a quick glance in Wrathion’s direction.

The other boy turned to meet him. A faint, if not nervous, smile twitched at the corners of his lips, and his cheeks seemed to glow in the light from the movie screen. Unable to stop himself, Anduin reached down and trailed his finger along the curve of Wrathion’s sleeve. The boy’s smile softened, and Anduin leaned slightly against him, forcing himself to break eye contact and turn away. 

However, facing forward didn’t quite stop his heart from pounding in his ears, and every time he laughed it came out a bit more nervous than he would have liked. After his mind wandered a few times, debating what he should say, or if he should say anything at all, he swallowed and finally forced his attention back on the story.

But even still, every moment seemed to drag on, and he found himself more interested in Wrathion’s reactions than what should have been an exciting clash between Thor and his sister.

Finally, the lights came up. Anduin looked over at Wrathion and opened his mouth, but the other boy turned away to push his arms through the sleeves of his coat. There were a few moments of loaded silence while Anduin’s tongue struggled to form the words he so desperately wanted to say, the explanation he had parsed through and played out in the back of his mind.

When he finally found his voice, however, it was to squeak out a short, and absolutely unbidden, “Well, did you like the movie?”

“Yes!” Wrathion was quick, maybe even too quick, to jump in. “It was most certainly the best _Thor_ movie yet, in fact. I’m sure you agree?”

“I—ah—yes,” Anduin replied, and then with that the two filed together out the theater door, back into the student union, and finally, out the double doors into the night. 

Even as late as it was, there were still quite a few students out on the sidewalk. Some hurried back to their dorms to escape the autumn chill, but others lingered, laughing and chatting, their slurred words betraying their intoxication. A cold wind swept through Anduin’s hair, and he used his free hand to adjust his jacket and scarf. The hand that clutched the top of his cane started feeling numb, and he cursed himself for forgetting his gloves back in his room.

Beside him, Wrathion hugged his long, black coat around his slight frame. Wrinkling his nose, he took a step closer, not stopping until their shoulders brushed. What might have been taken as a simple ploy to get out of the wind now seemed more deliberate, meaningful. Anduin smiled but said nothing about it, instead lapsing back into casual conversation with a laugh:

“I think there was a football game tonight. No wonder everyone’s out partying.”

“Ugh, football, honestly. Can you imagine?” Wrathion looked up at him with a grimace. Anduin couldn’t help but giggle at that, and, as casually as he could manage, he knocked their hands together once, then again, until finally Wrathion uncurled his fingers and threaded them between his. Neither of them paused to acknowledge the gesture, but Anduin felt a marked heat rise to his face that had nothing whatsoever to do with the cold.

“Oh, trust me, I can imagine.” Giving Wrathion’s hand a slight squeeze, he glanced to the left, to a cluster of girls talking under a streetlamp. They grinned at him, and he smiled back. He didn’t recognize them, but they seemed pleased to see him and Wrathion nonetheless, and that made his smile widen. “My father made me sit through football with he and his friends for years, to toughen me up, and all that. It was the worst. I mean, seeing my dad and his friends was all right, but it was so—”

“Boring! God, I can only imagine. That ridiculous pep rally they made us attend was more than enough for my entire four years. I was struggling not to pass out and fall off the bleachers.”

“Well, you should have sat next to me on the bottom row. At least you wouldn’t have had to far to fall!” Again, Anduin squeezed his hand, and Wrathion matched his pressure. He hadn’t forgotten how Wrathion had slunk off to the sidelines during their welcome week activities with a huff and a disdainful roll of his eyes. Now it just struck him as funny. 

He glanced over at the boy and gave his hand a slight swing. Wrathion’s bracelets jangled against Anduin’s skin, their chill contrasting the heat of their palms clasping together. Light from the streetlamp caught in Wrathion’s curls and spilled over his dark skin. When he caught his eye, his lips—looking soft and wet in the faint glow—curled up into a smile.

“Perhaps I should have, my dear. After all, I am certain your opinions on school spirit and togetherness would have kept me sufficiently entertained.”

“Well,” Anduin admitted, with a slight hitch in his breath. “At the very least, fighting with me could have kept you distracted.”

They laughed together at that, the soft ‘tng’ of their voices fading off into the night. 

Their fingers were still clasped together when they crossed the street as well as when they made their way across the quad and towards the door to their building. Anduin could hear the distant sound of music spilling out a window several floors above, and when Wrathion pulled open the door they were greeted by a puff of heat, smelling heavy and faintly metallic.

Anduin didn’t mind, however. He was just happy to be out of the cold and trailing behind his new friend, or…whatever they had become, whatever had transpired while they huddled together out in the night. 

They waited together at the elevator, and under the harsh fluorescent light Anduin could make out every flicker of shyness, confusion, and hope that passed across Wrathion’s face. Stepping over the threshold as one, they moved to stand against the back railing alone. The doors closed, leaving them alone. Anduin turned slightly to face him, smiling, trying to sound as confident as he could as he whispered, “I had fun tonight.”

“As did I, my dear,” Wrathion responded without his usual flourish or affect. There was only honesty in his voice, and in his dark eyes when he looked up at Anduin and smiled.

Heart pounding in his chest, Anduin couldn’t help but lean closer. He hadn’t felt this way since…well, since Baine, and now he was ready to admit that to himself. From the way Wrathion looked—wide-eyed and candid, for once—to the intoxicating smell of his cologne and the flash of his teeth beneath parted lips, it made Anduin’s knees feel weak. 

Leaning closer, he released his grip on his hand to touch his arm, instead. Wrathion strained up onto his toes, and then a loud ‘ping’ to their right heralded their arrival. The doors parted, revealing their hall, mostly deserted, with its harsh light and brown linoleum floor leading off to their respective dorm room.

Anduin silently scolded himself for taking so long. Wrathion, too, seemed disappointed, letting out an audible exhale as he stepped to the side and allowed Anduin to pass.

Their hesitation and whatever had just transpired between them plunged them both into silence. Anduin tried his best to focus on keeping his nerves from reaching his face as he limped forward, listening to the faint squeak of his cane joining with their footsteps. Five, six, seven doors they passed, including Anduin’s own, before finally arriving at the door marked 340 at the end of the hall with Wrathion’s name taped beside it. 

Wrathion paused, then turned to face him. Just as Anduin prepared to open his mouth to tell him good night, he rose up on his toes and, in a single gesture, leaned forward and pressed their faces together.

His lips were a bit too puckered as they knocked against Anduin’s mouth. A breath seemed to catch in his throat, and when he sank back down on his feet, it was to stare, his face a mix of nervous excitement and wide-eyed shock. In a way, Wrathion looked even more surprised than Anduin felt, even though he had been the one to initiate the contact. 

The realization made Anduin blush, emboldening him to take a step forward, rest his cane against the wall, and pull the other boy into a long, gentle embrace.

Guiding Wrathion’s back to the door, he slid his hand along the curve of his cheek, and then down to his chin. His goatee tickled his fingers, and when he nudged just beneath it, Wrathion looked up with a flustered smile. It was a good look for him, Anduin couldn’t help but think. Meeting him with a soft chuckle, he leaned down and then, with far less anxious haste, guided their mouths back together.

Wrathion’s lips felt soft, this time: not puckered and desperate as they had been before. They parted slightly, their wetness brushing Anduin’s skin and sending a slight tremble through his body. He was just as warm as Anduin had imagined. His curls felt just as nice against Anduin’s fingers as he had hoped they would.

His chest rose, then fell, and beneath his thick lashes lined in black his eyes pressed closed. There was no smug retort or tease, no irritation or fear. There was just Wrathion’s small chest pressed against his and a soft murmur of assent against his lips as he whispered, “Good night.”


End file.
